


Odd Comfort

by vials



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Dubcon Cuddling, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, M/M, Post-Movie(s), Pseudo-Incest, Raoul Silva is Alive, basically this is a whole lot of sin, is that a tag?? holy shit, pretty much everything is dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After M's death, both Silva and James find themselves very lost and very bored. Such things have always been a dangerous combination, and this time is no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Odd Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a shorter piece and then spiralled rapidly out of control. You're welcome.

Despite everything pointing to it being a catastrophically bad idea – the risk alone should have been enough to keep any sane man away – James wasn’t surprised to run into Silva here, of all places. Perhaps the man knew he would be arriving that day, and perhaps he knew that James wouldn’t be able to bring himself to kill him here, but whatever the reasoning Silva made no attempt to hide himself. He barely even looked at James as he approached, though of course, James knew he had likely been aware that he was coming in the first place.

The man didn’t look all that different to when they had last seen one another. His hair was several shades darker, closer to his natural colour but not quite close enough, if the roots were anything to go by. James thought he had maybe lost a little weight, but recovery would do that to anyone. When Silva finally looked at him, he realised he was no longer wearing contacts. His eyes were green-brown now. For some reason, James found that the most off-putting. 

“You look disappointingly well,” James told him.

“And you look disappointingly unsurprised to see me,” Silva replied. There was barely ten feet between them, but James wasn’t concerned. He had already worked out that the man was unarmed. Odd, but then again, nothing about this situation wasn’t odd. 

“What was it you said?” James asked, raising an eyebrow. “Life clings to you?”

Silva snorted. James detected a hint of genuine annoyance behind it.

“It seems that way,” he said. “Or perhaps it was just a case of you having poor aim.”

“You must forgive me. I was aiming for the spine, but I was a little bit distracted.”

The words hung heavy in the air, drawing James’ attention back to where they were. It was still strange, seeing the name on the headstone and having no strong connection to it. It wasn’t a name that he had known her as. He found his gaze travelling back to Silva, also staring at the headstone in silence. As he did, Silva glanced up, catching his eye.

“Strange, hmm?” he asked, as though he had been following James’ thoughts. “Did it settle any curiosity, finding out her name?”

“Not particularly,” James said, though it was something of a lie. “I never thought to ask such questions, or wonder about them if it wasn’t relevant.”

“I knew her when that was her name,” Silva said, and of course he did – how could James have forgotten? He felt the most absurd flicker of jealousy, but he ignored it as best as he could.

“I imagine you did. Did you ever get to call her it?”

“There was no need,” Silva said, a faint smile on his lips. “She was always Mum to me.”

“I’m sure she loved that.”

“She let me get away with it, and I suppose to her that’s one and the same.”

James made a non-committal sound. He wasn’t here for Silva to gloat about whatever perceived relationship he had had with her. He didn’t know why Silva was here – for all he knew, gloating was the only reason why – but James had always had very little patience for the man, and even less now.

“What do you want?” he asked, and the look Silva gave him could almost pass as innocent.

“Am I not allowed to grieve?” he asked, and James found his resolve to not kill him here was being tested.

“Would you think it’s appropriate? You are the reason she’s dead, after all. Isn’t that what you wanted, Mr. Silva?”

“You can want something and still feel sorrow all the same,” Silva said, shaking his head. “You of all people should know that, James.”

“I strongly doubt that’s all there is to this.”

“You can keep doubting. I come here to think. This just happens to be the first time you caught me.”

“I should bring you in.”

“But you won’t.”

“I should kill you.”

“But you won’t do that, either.”

“You’re right.”

Silva let out a brief laugh, looking at him. James got the impression that Silva hadn’t quite believed he wouldn’t.

“Of course you won’t,” he said quietly. “No, I’m the only one left who knows what this is like, aren’t I? I’m the only one left who knows how it feels.”

“Is that what this is about?” James asked. “You think that we have some kind of connection over this? I suppose that’s unsurprising. You always did seem to have that impression. I hate to point it out again, but just to be sure you understood me – you _are_ aware that you’re the reason she’s dead, correct?”

“Oh, James, do you like throwing that back in my face?” Silva asked dismissively.

“Apologies, but I was under the impression that it was a rather important point.”

“Perhaps I wasn’t referring to the grief,” Silva said, and James gave a thin smile.

“Then what were you referring to? I’m intrigued.”

“You’re lost without her,” Silva said, and then he sighed. “I am too. You never thought you would have to live with this, and I never expected to. What now? No one else understands what this is like.”

“You’re far too sentimental,” James told him. He turned to look back at the headstone, and tried to pretend Silva wasn’t right.

***

James spent some time keeping tabs on Silva, all the while knowing that the man must have wanted him to know where he was. There was no other explanation for how easy he was to find sometimes, and James got the impression that the tab-keeping wasn’t one sided. Silva ended up in his general area far too often for it to be a coincidence. James was sure the man was trying to antagonise him, and he was beginning to feel it working.

He fully intended to kill Silva the night he finally went after him. The man was within half an hour’s travel from him, and James thought that really, enough was enough. He wasn’t sure what kind of game Silva was playing, but he knew that Silva’s games were always dangerous. The sooner he put a stop to it, the better, and he was more than committed when he set out.

Getting into the hotel was easy – the age old tradition of simply acting as though he belonged there, and that suggesting otherwise would be absurd. It was a pleasant building, slightly old, and certainly not as affluent as James would have expected. Still, it worked to his advantage. The doors were classic key and locks rather than all of the key card nonsense he was so used to dealing with, and picking the lock took him a matter of seconds. He was committed to killing him right up until the moment that he saw him and Silva saw him right back, staring at him through the bathroom mirror, and for some reason James didn’t pull his gun but instead grabbed the man by the hair and slammed his head against the mirror as hard as he could. It wasn’t exactly _neat_ , and it certainly wouldn’t kill him as simply as a gunshot would have done, but James supposed that he just wasn’t ready to admit he couldn’t kill him.

He had a moment of advantage, where he could have easily snapped Silva’s neck, but he didn’t do that, either. Instead, he gave Silva the chance to retaliate, and while James didn’t see what he had in his hand he felt whatever it was strike him right above the eyebrow, and suddenly there was so much blood in his face that he could barely see. He wiped it away, getting a brief moment of clear vision before Silva grabbed his arm and yanked on it, pulling him around and cracking his head against the doorframe. James saw stars explode across his vision, but oddly, he didn’t feel alarmed. 

“You should kill me,” he told Silva, but only because he knew what the answer would be.

“But I won’t.”

Silva sounded frustrated; James could understand why. He laughed, and Silva cracked his head against the doorframe again and James didn’t remember anything after that.

***

He had been expecting many things when he woke up – to be in a different place altogether, to be restrained, perhaps even to be left alone in the hotel room with no sign left of Silva – but despite the fact he had thought he had covered all potential bases pretty well, nothing could prepare him for what he actually woke up to.

The first thing he realised was that he was missing his clothing. No matter, really. Such things had never bothered James. What did bother him, however, was the fact that someone seemed to be pinning him down, and that someone also appeared to have their fingers inside him.

Maybe he was sluggish, or perhaps he had underestimated how much Silva weighed, but James’ attempts to squirm out from under him proved fruitless. It didn’t help that Silva certainly had him in a precarious position. Moving around too much would backfire on James, and he quickly realised it, letting out a hiss of pain.

“Careful, now,” Silva told him, and James tried to turn his head so he could see him. It was no use. The man had him pinned firmly, his face pressed against the sheets, and James couldn’t see a damn thing.

“This is rather presumptuous, don’t you think?” James asked, and Silva gave a harsh twist of his fingers, causing James to have to bite back a gasp.

“I’m just picking up where we left off, dear boy.”

“Wasn’t that with me trying to kill you?”

“Well, evidently you’re not going to do that.” Silva’s voice had that bite of smugness back to it, and it was enough to send a genuine flicker of anger through James. Why the hell hadn’t he just killed him? “I figured we could change things up a bit instead. Did you know they say a good fuck is just as effective for anger as a good fight?”

“I think that sounds like something you’re telling yourself just so you can get away with sticking your fingers in me, personally.”

“Oh, come now. I could get away with it no matter what I claimed my reasons were. You can’t blame me, James. I’ve been curious for a while.”

“I noticed,” James said, biting back another gasp. He was dismayed to learn that Silva knew exactly what he was doing. Even with all of James’ efforts going towards concentrating on anything else, Silva’s fingers were pressing at just the right point inside him, and he could feel himself beginning to grow far too warm. He tried shifting again, but it was still too much of a risk. 

“So, what do you say this time?” Silva asked, and he sounded far too casual considering what he was doing. “Are you going to make things difficult, or are you going to try and enjoy yourself? I’d say you deserve it, considering all this running about you’ve been doing, following me all around the place.”

“I could say you were doing the same thing,” James said, and he hated how uneven his voice sounded compared to Silva’s. He tried to get a leg under himself to see if he could use the leverage to push Silva off, but the man was pinning him, one arm across his back and pressing him into the mattress as he knelt in between James’ legs, stopping him from being about to twist around too much. James tried again for good measure, almost managing to lift himself slightly, and this time it was the sudden throbbing pain in his head and the way the room span that caused him to collapse to the bed again.

“Stop it now, James,” Silva told him. “You’ll only hurt yourself further.”

“What are you gaining from this?” James asked, breathing heavily both because of the pain and because of the fact that Silva was stroking the right spot inside him and James couldn’t lie to himself and pretend like it wasn’t starting to get to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of anything that might distract him, but it was impossible. He was getting the urge to rock his hips against the bed to try and take the edge off, but he’d be damned if he gave in so soon.

Or at all. He should probably be thinking _at all_ , rather than _so soon_.

“Getting a little flustered, James?” Silva asked pleasantly, and James let out his breath in a huff of frustration.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, his voice muffled slightly from where he had turned his face against the mattress. “You just know the right buttons to press, so to speak.”

Silva laughed, slowing his pace slightly, and James only just avoided arching up against his hand to try and get it back.

“It’s perfectly alright to admit it, James. Surely if it’s just a biological reaction totally outside of your control, there’s no shame in it?”

“You still didn’t tell me what you’re gaining from this,” James grunted, and he did move a little then, a fraction of an inch purely out of instinct. Silva noticed, stilling his hand for a moment until James stopped arching against it, and only when James let himself relax against the mattress did he move his fingers again, causing James to immediately tense up again.

“Curiosity,” Silva said. “As I mentioned before. Nothing more to it, James. You should learn to relax, instead of asking all these questions all the time.”

“I doubt that’s all there is.”

“Well, we have to pass the time with _something_ now dear old Mummy’s gone, don’t we?” Silva asked, and James let out a ragged laugh.

“Now is not the time for you to start talking like that,” he said, and Silva hummed in thought.

“No? A little inappropriate?”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“So it must mean something to you, then?”

“What?”

“The _terminology_.” Silva twisted his fingers again, rubbing quickly in exactly the right place, and James let out a moan before he could stop himself. He almost went to move a hand underneath him, but he managed to hold back at the last moment. Silva must have noticed his arm twitch, though, because James heard him laugh. He elected to ignore it.

“Not so much the terminology as the subject matter in general,” he said, fighting to keep his words steady. “But then again, I don’t think anything is exactly fitting when someone has their fingers up your arse.”

“Oh, no, I think there’s something there,” Silva said conversationally, though James didn’t miss how his fingers had picked up pace again, stroking in an even rhythm that made James ache. “You could say I have pretty close contact with you right now, James. You can’t hide anything. I felt the way you tensed there. I know precisely when you did so.”

“Coincidence,” James said, his teeth gritted, and he didn’t dare say any more.

“Really, now?” Silva asked. “So it was nothing to do with Mummy, then?”

James felt himself tense slightly that time, and he couldn’t ignore Silva’s laugh. He felt the slightest heat creep into his cheeks, and he let his breath out slowly. 

“Perhaps I’m just finely tuned to not want to hear that word in this situation,” he said. “I can’t imagine anyone would. Unless they have something incredibly specific going on.”

“I don’t think she really hated it when I called her Mum,” Silva said, and James closed his eyes, knowing that he was doing it on purpose and that any attempts to change the subject would be useless. He was just going to have to tune him out, and luckily there was something to focus on that was increasingly distracting. Perhaps if he hurried up and got off, he could get this over with. “I think if she _did_ , she would have probably put a stop to it before it became habit. I think she secretly liked it, though she’d never admit it, of course. Back then it was much more inappropriate to have favourites. I daresay I was her first.”

Silva was stroking in tight circles now, and once again James was fighting the urge to slip a hand underneath him. He didn’t think he could bring himself to do something that obvious. Rocking his hips against the bed wasn’t much better, but at least he could pretend it was discrete. It wasn’t as much friction as he would have liked, but he was painfully hard, and anything was better than nothing at this point. If Silva had noticed, he didn’t make any comment. James guessed that the subject matter was tormenting him enough in Silva’s opinion. He couldn’t disagree. 

“I wonder what she’d have done if you’d picked up the same habit?” Silva asked. “You know, she would have probably let you get away with it, too. You were her favourite as well, and she had a type. I think she liked it when we pushed our luck. Odd, because you wouldn’t think it, not looking at her. She could be a stern old bitch sometimes. But she let me get away with a lot, and she let you get away with a lot, too. She must have seen something similar in both of us. It’s strange to think about, because I always thought I would be jealous. I’m not, though. Like I said, I was a better agent than you ever were. She probably knew that.”

James did his best to tune Silva out, but it wasn’t easy. Even with plenty to distract him, he clearly wanted to torture himself, because he was still tuning in to what Silva was saying. Parts of it, anyway – he was having trouble paying attention with everything else going on, increasingly finding himself only able to focus on what Silva’s fingers were doing. He was arching against the man’s hand now, seemingly without realising, and even when he did notice it, he couldn’t bring himself to care. The sooner this was over with, the better, though James no longer knew if that was entirely down to the subject matter or not. 

“Oh well,” Silva said, pushing his fingers a bit deeper, rubbing faster. James gasped before he could stop himself, arching up and rocking against Silva’s hand, and the man didn’t stop him, nor did he slow down. “I suppose that’s the peril of being a younger sibling. You’re always trying to outdo the older one, no? I’m sure Mummy was proud of the effort.”

James came hard, telling himself it would have happened then anyway, regardless of what Silva had said. He pushed back against the man’s hand, barely noticing that he had stilled his movements as soon as James did so, letting him do all the work. It was desperate and needy and James knew he would hate himself for it later, but at the moment it was just a relief. When he collapsed back against the bed, his limbs were heavy and he could feel himself shaking. 

“Interesting,” Silva said, but James didn’t get the chance to work out what he was referring to. Silva grabbed him by the hair, shuffling backwards as he pulled him up, twisting him around, and the room span again as James felt himself tugged into a sitting position. He could feel the carpet underneath his toes, coarse and rough, but everything else seemed to be distant, coming at him sluggishly. He supposed he must have a concussion. Maybe more. Who knew what Silva had done to him while he had been out.

He didn’t know what Silva was doing now, at least not until the man has pressed his fingers against James’ jaw, prising his mouth open. James barely had a chance to consider the implications before Silva had pushed his cock past his lips, and then it was all James could do to not choke. He didn’t know what Silva was saying to him – sitting upright, he could hear nothing but the blood rushing in his ears – and he was glad for it. He didn’t want to hear any more. He didn’t want to have to think about what had happened, what it meant.

The best thing he could do was get it over with, and it didn’t look as though it would take long. James found a rhythm and Silva did most of the work, fucking his mouth hard enough to hurt, and James kept pace as best as he could, focusing on anything so he didn’t risk hearing what the man was saying. Silva came within minutes, holding James’ head in place and pulling out quickly, clamping a hand over his mouth so he had no choice but to swallow. James did so with some difficulty – his throat burned, and he already felt sick, but somehow he managed to avoid throwing up, catching his breath in heaving gasps.

The backhand to the face was another surprise, and on top of the concussion, James wasn’t surprised when his senses didn’t immediately come back to him. Vaguely, he wondered if Silva would kill him. It would be expected, really. He had missed his chance, after all. Fair was fair.

Silva didn’t kill him. James was on the verge of unconsciousness, but even through the fog in his head, he was eventually aware that the man had lay down beside him, and arm thrown possessively over his waist. James thought he might be crying.

***

Silva had been gone by the time James had woken up, and he had gotten dressed slowly, unable to even remember passing out. He felt sluggish in a way that was entirely different from a concussion, and again he found himself wondering what else Silva might have done to him while he’d been unconscious.

He put it out of his mind. He didn’t look for Silva for several months. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he guessed that Silva stayed out of his way, too. He had finally managed to reach the point where he could consistently not think about what happened when he was once again forced to acknowledge it, this time thanks to an email from an unknown address. James thought that really, he should have it checked before opening it. Two things compelled him not to – the first being the questions the contents might raise from Q-branch, and the second being that he knew Silva wouldn’t have sent anything malicious, anyway.

_Nice catching up with you about Mum. We should do it again sometime._

James closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and then he stared at the message again, long enough that his vision began to blur. 

He would kill him next time. Of course he would.

The thought brought him no comfort, and James felt his skin crawl. For some reason, he didn’t delete the message.


End file.
